


a self-portrait in letters.

by kctsudon



Series: trust the hours [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, yugyeom and jinyoung appear slightly only though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kctsudon/pseuds/kctsudon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a. </p><p>the first time mark writes jackson a letter, he’s seven and his handwriting’s close to illegible. he’s been neighbours with jackson for as long as he could remember, and mark feels like he’s known him forever. so when christmas comes that year, he clambers onto a stack of books laid out neatly in a pile on the floor, bell printed socks against brown hard covers just to prop himself high enough to see if jackson’s in the backyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a self-portrait in letters.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope it's okay rip i could only do the formatting for the first letter otl

a. 

the first time mark writes jackson a letter, he’s seven and his handwriting’s close to illegible. he’s been neighbours with jackson for as long as he could remember, and mark feels like he’s known him forever. so when christmas comes that year, he clambers onto a stack of books laid out neatly in a pile on the floor, bell printed socks against brown hard covers just to prop himself high enough to see if jackson’s in the backyard.

true enough, his timing is perfect and he watches the six-year-old rush out onto the snowy yard clad in a new yellow jumper jacket and a blue scarf, which reminds mark of the sky. grinning, he jumps off the books, almost falling on his way to his table. 

“mom, i’m going to play!” he calls out without waiting for his mother’s response before tumbling out of the door with a smile tugging at the right end of his dry lips. it’s cold out that day, and mark thinks that it’s only right that it’s the coldest on christmas day. it’s the biggest day of the holiday anyway. when he reaches the backyard, he sees his neighbour playing and flailing in the snow with that harmonious laugh that he’d grown up with. 

mark makes his entrance when his friend falls face first into the snow and is trashing his arms about anxiously. rushing over, he pulls jackson back up to his feet with no difficulty and greets him with a soft snort when the boy turns to him with snow sticking to pretty much every corner of his face. 

“mark!” the boy squeals and wraps his arms around his waist eagerly, rubbing his cheek against his black jumper jacket. mark grins and pulls away, ruffling his hair lightly.

just like that, they begin their adventure and find themselves building snowmen in accordance to what they think each other would look like when they grow up and even built snowmen resembling their parents. when they finish, jackson hurries to remove his scarf and tells the older boy that he’s afraid “snowman mark” will be cold in the evening and mark finds his cheeks flushing slightly. 

eventually, mark leaves his scarf on “snowman jackson” and manages to keep jackson warm in his scarf. when their parents come to get them, mark almost forgets to give jackson the letter. so right before jackson enters the house, he runs over and grabs his hand with unsteady small breaths.

“merry christmas, jackson,” mark says a little flustered, before pressing the small square card against the younger boy’s navy blue glove.

                                                                                          _dear jackson,_

_merry christmas!_

_i’m glad that i met you and i became your friend._

_thanks for playing with me everyday after school!_

_love,_

_mark_

 

b. 

jackson gets another letter to place in his little tin can when mark’s in his third year of high school and they’re lying lazily on the porch. over the years as jackson grew up with a natural inclination towards fencing and getting along with everyone he met, mark tumbled into an innate love for words and falling into corners and behind crowds. yet these disparities never changed anything between them because mark felt nothing but comfort lying next to jackson. and on this sunny afternoon, with his head pillowed by his arms, mark lets out a soft sigh as he turns to glance at his counterpart who’s basically pouting with his arms folded like a little child.

“you can’t keep huffing like that, jacks,” mark muses softly, his lips curving upwards on its right end when the said boy simply lets out a whine. 

“you can’t just say that when you’re shifting and you only told me about it today?” his voice is higher than usual and mark recognises this as jackson’s way of stopping himself from crying when things go wrong, and his smile fades. he’s bound for california on an early acceptance scholarship to study literature – and the only thing which worried him since the beginning of his preparations for the departure was how jackson would react.

the script’s playing out in the converse direction, and jackson’s reaction comprises of everything he didn’t want to see – he’s sobbing, forearm pressed against his face to stifle his unsteady breaths, shoulders trembling with his back faced to him and mark doesn’t know what to do.

he practiced, in the room in front of the mirror. he’d tell jackson that in reality, he’s leaving in two weeks for a country so far that it seemed surreal and even though it was akin to chasing his dreams, he wouldn’t be leaving jackson entirely. they could still talk to each other through letters, or skype – even though their timezones clashed horrendously, he would be there when jackson woke up and talk to him after jackson’s done with the day and had dinner even if it meant staying awake till three.

technically, he would still _always_ be there whenever jackson needed him. 

just thousands of miles away, and sixteen hours ahead.

“we can still talk,” mark isn’t as strong as he thinks he is because his voice cracks a little, “i’ll still be here, and you can drop me a text or we can skype or even use snail mail.” 

“but mark, it’s not the same.” 

“i’ll try to come back every christmas, i promise.”

mark eventually slides the envelope towards jackson and when the said boy smiles through his swollen eyes and red nose, mark can’t help but return it quickly.

jackson only opens the envelope two weeks later after mark’s entered the departure gates and at a cozy café at the end of the terminal with his and mark’s parents. they’re chattering away, albeit a little softer than usual, about how they’re wondering about how their child would do and whether he’d remember to eat well and dress well during the winter.   

                                                                                      

_dear jacks,_

_a few days ago, i picked up a quote from my favourite author, stating my words have guts but i don’t. this applies to me in so many ways, and i’m sure you understand after thankfully being around me for so many years. it’s been a really long time since i first met you out on that little porch in december, and i’m glad that even though i was extremely wary – your warmth, prominent even at the age of four, kept me grounded._

_likewise, i haven’t written to you like this since i was seven and had handwriting more atrocious than yours. but if i’m going to be leaving for a year, this is mandatory, isn’t it?_

_i’m a man on a mission, to pursue dreams that may seem dumb to most, because humanities and literature doesn’t always look like the best career directions – but i’m really glad that everyone around me is this supportive and that you too, were always so excited and truly interested in the things that i churned out at midnight. i’m really, so fucking grateful for meeting you._

_i know we’ve grown really dependent on each other in one way or another, and this won’t be easy but we’ll get used to it? i hope? a year will go by real quick and i’ll be home for christmas – and we can build snowmen as we always have._

_eat well, sleep well, dress well. study well too, so you can get a scholarship too and maybe, just maybe, consider california too._

_if you need me, we have skype and kakao – even if it’s three in the morning on my end, i’ll respond. and be nice to my sister when i’m gone, my parents get busy sometimes and she just, yeah._

_love,_  
_mark._

 

c. 

it’s midnight and mark’s lying on his stomach with his laptop set in front of him. it’s been two months since he last skyped jackson due to preparations for his second year finals, and the moment he finished washing his face that night, mark practically sprinted back to his bed and hurled himself on it, gaining an amused grunt from his roommate.

“you’re always so eager to meet that dude,” yugyeom starts with a playful tone, “you guys would be a great couple.”

“yugyeom, we’ve talked about this before, he’s my-” mark starts with the most deadpan tone he’s used on this junior since he started being roommates with him two years ago, albeit cheeks flushing lightly.

“best friend? and you aren’t gay, yes sir got it,” he drones before laughing and pushing himself off the bed when he hears shuffling from mark’s speakers, “time to run.”

mark would’ve thrown his pillow at him if he hadn’t seen jackson’s face come into the frame, wearing the brightest smile he’d seen in months. seeing his best friend through the blurry screen makes him feel warm, and something subtle tugs at his heart for a split second as he finds himself grinning anyway and resting his chin on the back of his hands. jackson speaks first, his voice a little muffled from the bad reception but mostly hoarser and a little deeper than it used to be, “mark tuan, it’s been _ages_ since we last talked. so much for whenever i need you.”

“someone’s growing up,” he muses softly and gains a snort from the boy on the other end of the call.

“and you’re growing old, college hasn’t been kind, has it?”

“no, not really. i might not be coming back this holiday either, i have to finish this research report on different eras of historical literature and i swear it’s a pain,” mark pouts a little as he let his eyes linger on the boy’s now defined jaw, tracing downwards towards his collarbones peaking out from his loose tank. he doesn’t realise that he’s been staring for a little too long until five loud squawks later, courtesy of jackson.

“are you listening?” he frowns and mark shook his head apologetically, flashing a sheepish smirk. 

mark eventually falls asleep at one thirty in the morning and right before jackson shuffles away for dinner, he manages to jolt awake to say goodbye. blinking lazily at the bright screen in front of him, he waves carelessly at jackson and tells him to eat well before watching him get up from his seat and end the call.

they do this every night for a week, and regardless of how tired he is, mark doesn’t bring up the fact that in the span of the past two weeks, he probably had a maximum of ten hours of decent sleep. eventually, he slips back into his routine of spending days cooped up in his room working but he doesn’t forget to leave his skype monitor on just so that jackson, after whining for hours, can watch him work with his glasses drooping precariously off his nose, his brown eyes peeking out from beneath his messy bleached hair, while mark finds solace in shooting glances at the bright-eyed boy once in awhile and laughing at how he transits from trying to study to whining lazily and falling asleep on a little puddle of drool.

mark promises him that even though he won’t be home for christmas, he’ll send something great back.

a day before christmas, the mail comes and jackson’s stumped by the number of parcels left at their doorstep, each endearingly tagged with the names of his parents, sister and jackson’s parents. there’s a last parcel dotted with hand-drawn silver snowflakes at the bottom which he practically jumps for and hugs throughout the process of bringing the other parcels to their owners. 

that night, mark flips his laptop open and habitually launches the application to find himself greeted by everyone he’d sent presents to, eyes stinging mildly when he found his parents grinning in the front. they talk for awhile, and he even manages introduces yugyeom to them despite his violent protests about being clad in his ugliest shirt (even though his closet was full of ten of the same plain tee) before they leave to prepare dinner and he’s left with jackson. yugyeom shifts away instinctively, and mark hears the boy’s breathless laughter through his laptop speakers. 

“we’ll be hitting christmas sixteen hours before you do, but i thought i’d just gather everyone as a gift for you to pull through your thesis writing and come back real quick.”

“jacks,” mark’s voice cracks a little, “thanks.”

they fall silent for a few seconds, jackson to give mark a breather because he knows that beneath his soft smiles and light laughter, being separated from home tears him up more than anything else could and mark finding ways to maneuver out of the silence.

“did you like the gift?”

“i was just about to get started on that, how do i even resemble this penguin beanie boo when i have such beautiful cheekbones and toned arms,” jackson practically whines and when he pauses to wait for the older boy’s reaction, his eyes are iridescent under the night lamp and mark barely catches his breath.

“trust me, you do in many ways.”

 

_dear jia-er,_

_it’s been some time since i called you that, and you’d probably recognise that as a sign that something’s wrong by now but trust me, nothing really is. i suppose. it’s just that on some nights when i’m rushing this crazy thesis and typing away, i kind of miss korea. and i miss all of you, so much more than i thought i was prepared for when i left. and i really wish i could be home this christmas, but i’ll have to make do._

_since i was the one who wanted this._

_it's not that i'm thinking of giving up or anything, but the idea of pursuing something which very much could be a void scares me sometimes. our professors have long droned into our veins that carving a career out of this isn't that easy and it takes more than passion and patience to scrape through._

_and sometimes i feel like i could've been too hasty in shutting my options down too early. but i have to take what i've got, since i made these decisions._

_i hope your last year of high school's going great, prom's around the corner isn't it? since they like having it around christmas. get someone cool to go with, don't waste your chance at it._

_thanks for constantly making things more bearable by being there across the screen even though you're sixteen hours and thousands of miles away. stay strong, keep grounded? especially with college applications. tell me where you're headed, and about your plans whenever you decide._

_that present was chosen because it resembles you, alot. hope you like it, even though its a little juvenile._

_love,_  
_yi en._

                                   

d. 

jackson stumbles into his first year of college, bringing with himself an inch of extra height and an eager outlook on the new environment while mark continually struggled with finishing his thesis. they’re still sixteen hours apart and amongst the overwhelming programmes and welcoming aspects of college, jackson misses their skype meeting for the first time.

he comes online the next day and apologises to mark in the form of helpless whines and flailing arms, introducing him to his new roommate called jinyoung. mark smiles weakly and nods, quietly watching the two boys on the screen involve in a banter unless reeled back into the conversation. eventually yugyeom comes back and the four of them end up talking for an hour before mark decided to call it a day to settle his pending reports. 

but nothing really changes, because jackson starts missing their meetings again, apologizing again, and repeating the same cycle endlessly.

it reaches a point where mark has gone a month without seeing jackson and he doesn’t really mind because his lecturers have been marking him down for his unorthodox opinions on certain matters, occasionally going as far as to criticize the writing style which he thinks honestly never changed since they last praised it. yugyeom asked him about it once, and it ended in mark laughing dryly and shaking his head. 

“he’s probably really busy, it’s okay.”

the next time skype is opened on mark’s laptop, the meeting doesn’t seem like anything mark or jackson had expected it to be like.

“hey, jackson,” mark says slowly, annuciating every syllable carefully as jackson squints in return at the boy’s red rimmed eyes and disheveled hair.

“it’s so _fucking_ suffocating here,” he literally seeths through his drunken stupor, voice hoarse against jackson’s ears, “and you’re not around."

“mark, what-" 

“you’re never around these days,” the boy slurs before rolling onto his back with a subtle smirk, leaving jackson to watch the boy’s chest heave with every breath he took. mark’s practically lying on his bed drunk, and it’s all too much for jackson to comprehend because the mark he remembers grew up with an innate aversion towards alcohol. 

but that’s when jackson realises that he _has_ been breaking his promises and above his best friend struggling in a still somewhat foreign land to fight stereotypes and opinionated individuals, he had chosen interacting with his new friends and going out for dinner with his roommate.

in that sense, jackson was truly never there anymore, and the realization hits him along with the guilt.

yugyeom’s face enters the frame after he’s been staring at his keypad for about an hour, and jackson doesn’t really process anything as he watches him pull mark’s jacket off his slumped shoulders and tuck him under the covers. the computer shifts and the moment it stops, jackson barely manages to ask yugyeom about what was going on.

just like that, jackson spends twenty minutes listen to the boy explain that he had never seen his roommate anywhere near alcohol until a little after the mid years when mark no longer returned to the dorm eagerly to flip his laptop open but rather slumped in his seat writing, and writing – so much so that his arms were probably close to exhaustion, his lungs close to puncturing like deflated balloons from rapid spouts of unsteady breaths.

he wrote letters on crumpled paper, folded them and placed them in envelopes but never sent them. they’d pile up for a few days before getting thrown into the bin beneath his table whenever mark came back from a session of harsh literary critiques.

he was literally a mess, and no longer smiled as much. 

jackson doesn’t end the call after yugyeom leaves and sets the computer back to its usual perch on mark’s table. instead, he tells jinyoung he’s skipping dinner and sets his gaze on the boy in the frame, thinking about all the things he would’ve told mark about settling into college, all the jokes he would’ve shared and all of the weight he might’ve been able to lift off mark’s shoulders if he hadn’t forgotten about their promises entirely. if he hadn’t been caught up with things new that he had forsaken comfortable routines. 

mark loved routines, but jackson crushed one of his favourites.

mark wakes up the next day snuffling with his head throbbing and curls under the blankets lazily when his phone rings with a series of notifications on kakao.

 

_jia-er: hey mark, i’m really sorry for being such a douche. i shouldn’t have been so stupidly caught up with everything that i missed all of our skype sessions for months. i really don’t understand how it didn’t cross my mind – like what kind of friend am i?_

_jia-er: i’ve been thinking a lot, and i honestly can’t think of any way to make up for being such a disgusting friend but i just want you to know that i should’ve been here for you back then but i didn’t, so i’m switching things up now._

_jia-er: i’m going to be here, as much as you’ve been there for me for years before i lost it. if you’ve had a stressful day with your lecturers, the first thing you do is skype or kakao me okay. you can send me a voice message of you screaming or something as long as you remind me to lower the volume._

_jia-er: or you could just, send me a parcel of poop or something – anything that makes you feel better because i really, really want to be here for you._

_jia-er: just remember, nothing foolish, nothing strenuous, no alcohol, no rushing across busy streets half-sober._

_jia-er: hang in there, it’ll be over soon._

_jia-er: on a side note, i’m changing the ringtone for notifs from you so i’ll remember to reply them – and its going to be the voice note of you laughing stupidly when we were in our second year of high school and jaebum had to do a dumb dare in our game._

 

e. 

mark finishes his thesis in the last quarter of his fifth year, right smack before his internship period. he tells jackson that it feels like a dream to him because all he remembers about his four to five years was scribbling against paper, slipping between being conscious and asleep at three in the morning before everything wobbled back into vision when the caffeine kicked in, and basically feeling numb half the time. things fell into place at the beginning of his fifth year following a successful presentation where his lecturers agreed with his standpoints for once, without requiring him to tweak his opinions just to adhere by their tastes.

he even got an internship at his dream editorial after getting the chance to present his literary critique of a classic to one of the directors in a seminar.

right as he speaks, mark is practically beaming into the camera and jackson thinks that he might just have to get some shades to prevent the imminent migraine tugging at his temples.

“when’s your internship starting then?” jackson shifts to wrap his arms around the penguin stuffed toy which mark insisted was turning grey thanks to jackson’s rough handling such as hugging it to bed and hurling it off rudely with his foot when he was fast asleep.  (jackson adamantly attempted to refute until mark flashed him a knowing smirk and the manner in which his eyes crinkled into soft crescents made his heart jolt a little.)

“sometime next year, i get a short breather for other things such as community service and some leeway for a break.”

“before things pick up, i swear i’m going to find a way to make you get off that instant noodles feat plain wholemeal bread diet even though you’re like thousands of miles away in a vast faraway land.”

“it isn’t that bad, jackson." 

“it can get chronic and you’ll end up relying on that till you grow old and thanks to the lack of nutrition you might just get cancer and lose all of your hair and become dysfunctional and,” jackson’s voice lowers into a whisper as he eyes mark’s still present grin, “guess who’s going to have to take care of you.”

“it’s not like you have to, jacks,” the said boy muses as he lifts his finger to his chin and shakes his head lightly.

“i’m pretty sure it was a condition in that stupid best friends contract i signed with you when i was five and stupid.”

the conversation then snowballs into jackson’s incessant nagging about mark’s inability to take care of himself which as a result worried him insanely because they were _so_ far from each other and mark simply laughs breathlessly with his chin propped up by his hands. they also talk about jackson’s struggles in staying awake in engineering class and how jinyoung had practically become his personal alarm clock. (he also mentions that jinyoung kept talking to him about how yugyeom’s facial features were literally ethereal for two weeks after the four of them met on skype and mark reports something similar occurring on his end.) 

when jackson starts to stack his papers up to leave for dinner, mark waits for him to finish before speaking again with an envelope in his hands.

“oh, and jackson, your break starts in a week right?”

the boy nods without looking up.

“i’m coming home for christmas this year, i’ll be back in ten days.”

 

_dear jackson,_

_merry christmas._

_it’s been such a long time since we last saw each other but thanks for continually being on the other end of the skype call to keep me grounded. college, especially with literature in a foreign land wasn’t as fun as i pictured it to be – it involves nights where sounds are literally drowned out by the cacophony of your body burning and when you get up to sleep your footsteps, although silent, are ringing like thunderbolts against your exhausted mind. it feels like you’re breathing underwater in a salt water sea and it’s just- why am i talking about this._

_either ways, i hope college has been kind to you. i really do. jinyoung seems like a pretty cute kid._

_we’ve known each other for more than a decade, and i’ve written you more letters than i can count, yugyeom probably mentioned the period of my frantic writing and how every unsent letter was disposed. it’s nothing to worry about, because it was mostly rants and frustration put roughly into words. i grew out of that, i guess._

_i don’t speak well in person, so writing really makes things a lot easier and i’m glad that even though you’re not much of a letter person, you’ve been really patient and supportive along the way._

_thanks for arranging skype meetings for me and my family, and your family of course, and thanks for keeping everything in perspective for me and being so insanely bright even when it’s the evening where you are._

_i’m really thankful for meeting someone who made me love the sun over the moon simply with the way he smiles._

_love,_  
_mark._


End file.
